


Bughead Ficlets

by MotherMaple



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:03:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/pseuds/MotherMaple
Summary: Just some things that would otherwise be lost to the Tumblr void





	1. Do you believe in love at first sight? (or should I walk by again)

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” Jughead could feel his ears burning under his hat as the pretty blonde girl turned on her bar stool and regarded him with incredulous green eyes. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked on his heels, chewing his lip apologetically as he waited for her to throw a drink at him.

The rules said he had to wait for her response.

“Did you really just say that?” she asked, very clearly fighting back laughter.

“God help me, I did.” He sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the table where Archie, Kevin, and the rest of the bachelor party were watching, hovering over their chairs as they tried to see through the crowd. “Sorry, but could you just slap me or something, and I’ll get back to my friends?” and poison their drinks, he added to himself.

“Why on earth would I slap you?” she exclaimed, shocked. “You’re clearly suffering from some sort of brain trauma, I wouldn’t want to make it worse.” Winking at him from behind her martini glass, she took a long sip and set it carefully on the bar, in the exact centre of a coaster reminding her that friends don’t let friends drive drunk. “So, did you lose a bet or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered. “Bachelor party scavenger hunt. I was given two choices, and this one seemed less offensive.”

Chuckling, she tipped her head at the empty stool to her right. “Sit down and tell me about it, cowboy. It seems I’ve been stood up, and who am I to turn down such an original pick up line?”

That wasn’t part of the game. A mild panic bubbled up in his stomach - there was no script beyond the opening line and he really wasn’t one for chatting up strangers in a Manhattan bar - but it was sit down and have the option to rub it in Reggie’s face later, or be rude to the woman he’d just accosted and have Reggie rub that in his face until the end of time.

He sat.

“So what was the other option?” she asked, spearing her olive on a tiny plastic sword and popping it into her mouth. “Tell your friend I was a hooker you bought for him?”

“Uh, no.” He flagged down the bartender and ordered another beer. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked. “Since you were nice enough not to throw that one at me?”

“Vodka martini, dirty, please,” she told the bartender. “I’m Betty Cooper, by the way.”

Jughead took her offered hand and shook it briefly. “Jughead Jones. And my second option was to ask the lady in the window seat to spank me.”

Betty snorted and glanced over at the woman in question, and the man sitting next to her. “Did your friends insure you or something? That guy’s built like a brick house.”

“Honestly, I’m probably the only guy besides the groom that wouldn’t take that dare.”

“Well let’s be thankful that you’re smarter than they are,” she laughed, lifting the fresh drink to her lips. “You’ve got a nice face. It would be a shame to see it go through the window.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, turning as red as her cocktail dress. “So who’s the idiot that stood you up?” Women were pretty low on his hierarchy of needs, but he knew a pretty girl when he saw one. Actually, she was stunning, and he was definitely responding to it.

She sighed and pulled her phone out of a tiny clutch. “Tinder date,” she said glumly, showing him a profile picture. “Apparently I don’t get out enough, so my roommate signed me up for this godforsaken app. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved he didn’t show up. All he’s messaged me about since we agreed to meet is stock market information.”

Jughead blinked. “How romantic,” he said dryly. “Why’d you come? It kind of sounds like you dodged a bullet here.”

“I figured I’d get the worst date out of the way? It’s my first one, might as well keep the standard realistic. It’s not like I’m going to meet Prince Charming on a hookup app.”

“You never know,” Jughead laughed. “The groom, Kevin, did.” He pointed his thumb at Kevin’s table and Betty glanced over, giggling as the whole group immediately pretended that they weren’t watching the interaction at the bar.

Betty toasted them silently and leaned against Jughead’s arm. “They seem very interested in your progress,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “Do you usually have success with your lines?”

“God no,” he laughed, trying not to shiver at her breath on his neck. “I think the last time I flirted with a woman was freshman year of college, when I locked myself out of my dorm building and had to charm my way past the security guard.”

“How’d that go for you?”

“It did not,” he grinned. “I had to wait for my roommate to get home.”

“Crashed and burned on the first one, hey?”

“Yup,” he laughed, recognizing the line. “How would you say the second one’s going?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she winked. “But it’s looking good so far.”

 

 

 

(July 24 https://mothermaple.tumblr.com/post/176245547208/do-you-believe-in-love-at-first-sight )


	2. Put on a show for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from jandjsalmon  
> "Put on a show for me"

The sky is purple, shot with fiery streaks of orange and gold. The fading embers of the sun dance on the clear water of the Indian Ocean, lapping at his feet in the soft, pure white sand. Veronica’s yacht, miles away on the horizon, bobs lazily on the waves, glowing pink in the dying light.

And Betty, goddess of the golden hour, lounges like a siren in the surf, wearing nothing but the evening tide.

She’s the perfect model - intuitive, intelligent, confident, sensual, and completely, undeniably beautiful. Whether he’s capturing her face, tilted toward the camera, or the silhouette of her curves, backlit against the Voavah sky, it’s impossible to take a bad photo of her.

 

 

 

_“Will you do something for me?”_

_Betty looked up from her book, a floppy sun hat shading her eyes. “Of course. Name it.”_

_“Let me take your picture?” He rummaged in her tote bag and pulled out his trusty camera, carefully tucked away in a sand-proof case._

_“Since when do you have to ask?” she asked, laying her book down and watching him fiddle with the camera. “You’ve got thousands of pictures of me.”_

_He paused, part way through swapping one memory card for another, and looked at her with intent. “Not like this”_

_Understanding flashed across her face and she sat up, removing her hat and sunglasses. “Intrigue. What kind of picture do you want?” She posed dramatically on her chair, arching her back and stretching one long leg out towards the sea._

_He chuckled and slid onto the sand at her side, leaning up to press his lips to her throat.“I want you to put on a show for me,” he murmured._

_“Oh yeah?” She turned in her seat and wrapped her legs loosely around his waist, running her fingers through his hair. “What kind of show?”_

_“The kind I’ll dream about when you’re not around,” he said, sitting back on his heels and focusing the camera on her face._

_“Oh, that kind of show. So you want me to do this?” she asked, swivelling around and laying on her side, one hand on her hip, sliding her thighs together seductively._

_He watched her with a grin from behind the lens, clicking away.“Yeah, I want you to do that.”_

_“And this?” She rolled onto her stomach and raised her hips off the lounger, arching her back and pointing her toes._

_“Uh huh.”_

_“What else?”_

_“You’re overdressed.” He put the camera on his own chair and reached out for her, dragging her down onto the sand with him and trailing his fingers up her stomach. “All these strings and straps get in the way.” Her body was one beautiful line after another - he didn’t want anything to interrupt that._

_Her mouth dropped open in feigned shock.“I’m scandalised, Mr Jones.”_

_“No you’re not,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her earlobe, his hands sliding liberally over her skin. “Don’t pretend, Elizabeth. You and I both know you’d love it. Come on baby. Get up and strip for me.”_

_After that it was all he could do to hold the camera steady, snapping shot after shot of Betty moving around the beach; draped across her chair; peeking out from behind the curtain of the cabana, one leg wrapped around the support beam; kneeling in the sand with her legs spread, the lower strings of her bikini top stretched out in her hands, and then the same top lying at his feet and her arms wrapped around herself. Crawling towards him, her hips swaying from side to side with a predatory pout on her face; sitting sideways, her large hat strategically at her side, covering her from the bottom of her hip to the swell of her breast; rolling in the waves, stretching, posing, teasing, obeying every direction; relaxing further and further until she seemed to forget where she was, and let her wet hands roam her body with no thought of the camera, seeing only him._

_The salty spray of the tide drenched her hair, her glossy curls sticking to her neck and shoulders as she moved, and left a shimmering tapestry across her glowing skin. Watching her pose behind a large rock, he could easily see where the myth of the Siren came from, and wouldn’t blame a single sailor for following the mythical beauty to his death._

 

 

 

With the last rays of the sun sinking into the depths, she walks towards him, water cascading down her body and every inch of her beckoning him closer. He snaps one last shot - Venus emerging from the sea - and changes the setting on the camera.

“Anything else?” she asks when she reaches him, her eyes dark and hooded, her lips swollen from frequent nips of her teeth.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks huskily, setting the camera down on a table and aiming it at the bed in the cabana.

She glances between the bed and him and smiles coyly. “Of course,” she says. “You can put on a show for me.”

 

 

 

(Sept 15    https://mothermaple.tumblr.com/post/178124039958/jandjsalmon-ask-and-you-shall-receive-prompt)


End file.
